Drunken Misadventures And The (Lack Of) Consequences That Followed
by VivyPotter
Summary: "The day Harry Potter decided the House Elves were starting a rebellion was truly one to remember." In which Harry is drunk, Ron is smug, and Hermione is proven wrong.
1. The House Elf Rebellion

**Hello! This may end up being a multi-chaptered story, depending upon the response. So if you want to see Harry getting up to some other drunken shenanigans, leave suggestions in a comment, and I'll see what I can do. Vivy out!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and all rights go to JK.**

* * *

The day Harry Potter decided the House Elves were starting a rebellion was truly one to remember.

Harry was popping down to the kitchen for a glass of 'water' when- low and behold!- a whispered conversation! We know from various written sources that our Mr Potter simply cannot resist a situation in which he really should keep his nose out. What else was he to do but listen?

There, huddled outside the fabled painting of the fruit basket, the entrance to the working place of the House Elves… were two House Elves.

_'__Suspicious,'_ Harry thought.

He could only catch bits of their conversation, but once he'd heard the words "supply," "pudding" and "gone" used in the same high-pitched sentence, it was all the confirmation he needed.

Grabbing one of the House Elves roughly by the pillowcase, he sprinted through the castle. He raced past loudly-exclaiming portraits, shoving over suits of armour and jumped through windows until, finally, he reached his goal.

Harry threw open the huge heavy doors to the Great Hall, ran in, and spread his arms wide, declaring "THE GREAT HOUSE ELF REBELLION HAS BEGUN! HIDE YOUR TREACLE TART!"

Hermione sighed and placed her head in her hands, muttering, "He's at it again."

Ron nervously slipped a few chicken legs into his robes and gulped down the mouthful he'd been chewing.

Professor McGonagall got to her feet and glared down at the Boy Who Lived. "Mr Potter, what is the meaning of this disruption? This is a school, not a barnyard!"

Harry narrowed his eyes and took a few steps forward, his very presence making the entire school quake in their wizarding boots. "This isn't a school, madam, if you even _are_ a madam." (McGonagall looked severely affronted) "This is a _plot_! A ploy! A well-hidden base, for the House Elf rebellion!"

Whispers consumed the Great Hall, and Draco Malfoy could be heard sneering loudly, "I always knew it was true. This is what happens when you mix lower life forms and good, pureblooded wizards. It'll be the mudbloods next, you'll see!"

Hermione stood up sharply, snapping, "Shut up Malfoy, you great ferret."

Malfoy's pale cheeks coloured with embarrassed fury. He sunk under the table to the raucous laughter of his Housemates and the rest of the school.

Hermione cautiously took a few steps towards Harry, and the room quickly hushed. The smartest witch in the school raised her hands, as if handling a wild animal. It was probably the best decision, all things considered.

"Harry," she began. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?"

"No," he murmured stubbornly, slurring slightly.

"_Harry_,"

"I haven't!"

"Harry!"

"Maybe a little."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Fine. A lot." he admitted bitterly.

"Drinking?!" McGonagall shrieked, breaking out of her haze (that _boy_ had insulted her Professorship!). "He's _sixteen_."

Hermione shot her a glare. "He's under a lot of pressure. What with Voldemort-"

"VOLDEMORT!?" Harry yelled.

Hermione shushed him. "-He has to find ways to cope. But Harry, you need to understand: this is all your imagination. There is no House Elf Rebellion, and if there _was_ I'd be running it!"

"But I have proof!" he claimed.

"Oh really?"

"Indeed!" Harry grinned maniacally and produced the House Elf he'd grabbed, from behind his back. "Meet their insane leader-" he looked questioningly at the creature.

"T-taggy, s-s-sir," it stammered.

"Taggy!" Harry finished triumphantly and threw it to the ground.

"Harry!" Hermione screeched furiously. "You can't do that! That's elf cruelty! Precisely the kind of thing SPEW fights again! The organisation that _you_ are Secretary of!"

"Spew?" Malfoy sniggered, reappearing again. "Do they throw up every time they see your ugly mug, Granger?"

"Shut up Malfoy!" Ron piped out, ears reddening with rage.

"Oo, Weasel, I'm so _scared_-"

"Shut it blondie," Hermione growled, eyes flashing.

Malfoy squeaked and dived back under the table.

"You can't treat House Elves this way, Harry," Hermione protested, refocusing her energies back on her drunken friend. "They're people too. Well, not _strictly_ speaking, but-"

"These House Elves aren't people, Hermione!" Harry assured her, giving Taggy a vicious glare. "They're evil little buggers."

"What will they do Harry?" Neville asked, and looked uncomfortable when all eyes turned to him.

Harry took centre-stage. "I'll tell you what they will do. They will steal your treacle tarts and various other confectionaries. And they will wait for you to grow up, taking pleasure in your joyless childhood. And then they will steal your children, turn them into puddings and EAT THEM!"

The Hufflepuff table screamed and ran from the room.

Harry passed out, collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut, straight onto the cold stone floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes and placed Harry's arm around her shoulder, dragging his unconscious body to its feet. "Come on Harry. Let's get you sobered up."

There was a moment of stunned silence. It didn't last long.

"MR POTTER!" McGonagall was furious. "YOU GET BACK HERE!"

"I'll bring him to you as soon as he can walk straight, Professor!" Hermione answered, already walking up the staircase.

"NO YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! HEADMASTER! DO SOMETHING!"

"I'm sorry Minerva, I can't hear you," Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "I suddenly find myself under the thrall of dear Taggy here, and this delicious lemon sorbet."

"POTTER! POTTER! _POTTER_!"

* * *

The long shadow of the House Elf rebellion hung over Harry and his friends for weeks.

Whenever a new dish appeared on the oak table, accompanied with a faint 'pop!', everyone would glance at Harry nervously. However Harry merely shot the food an interrogating gaze and reluctantly dumped a spoonful onto his plate, taking a swig from his 'special cup'. Hermione wasn't sure how, but Harry had somehow forced the House Elves to supply him alcohol with every meal. Probably scared the poor things into it. But it somewhat satisfied Harry, so she didn't ask. It was probably better they were illegally supplying a minor with alcohol than dead in an elf-sized ditch somewhere. It was a morbid thought.

"I'm worried about him, Mione." Ron muttered, shooting his friend a worried look. Harry was currently scribbling on a piece of parchment furiously with a slightly-chewed quill, a frown of concentration on his face. Hermione ignored the violent shaking of his hand.

Hermione tucked into her meal, chewing calmly. "I was too, at first, but he's promised he'll go to meetings in the summer."

"And you _believed_ him?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Hermione scoffed. "But he won't have a choice. Besides, this is working much better than the other method."

"…The other method?"

"Calming drafts, slipped into his pumpkin juice." Hermione shrugged. "And some Lorazepam."

"_Drugs_!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"Shhh!" Hermione whispered. "He'll hear you."

They glanced at Harry, who was oblivious to the world around him, save the amber liquid clutched tightly in his hand.

"Or maybe not," Hermione shrugged.

"Aren't you supposed to be the responsible one here?" Ron grumbled.

Hermione sighed, and slipped a bundle of leaflets across the table. Ron picked them up and examined them incredulously, reading the 'SO YOU'RE AN ALCOHOLIC' emblazoned across the top.

Hermione smirked. "See? I'm dealing with it. Once he gets too out of hand, I'll step in. But it's fine, I mean: how bad can it get?"

* * *

Ron was the one wearing the smirk when the pair next walked into the Great Hall. And it was extremely clear why.

The tables had been pushed back to either side of the room, and every single one was overflowing with treacle tarts and various other desserts of all descriptions. The rest of the Hall was filled with students engaging in swordfights. All had shed their school robes and ties, so the only way to distinguish them were the various animal noises emerging from their mouths. Roars from the Gryffindors, caws from the Ravenclaws, hisses from the Slytherins, and… bellows of rage-filled war from the Hufflepuffs? And at the centre of it all; a knight dressed wholly in dull armour and… Harry.

"No," the Boy Who Lived scolded. "You need to lunge low and _then_ parry to the right. If you don't, those sneaky little buggers will stab you right under your arm and steal your pudding. Again!"

Hermione couldn't believe it.

"'How bad can it get', huh?" Ron sniggered. Hermione slapped the back of his head.

"HARRY POTTER!" she shrieked, marching towards her friend, face red with fury. "What is the _meaning_ of this?!"

"Hey Mione," Harry grinned, resting the flat of his sword on his shoulder. "We're getting ready for the House Elf rebellion. The time has come!"

Hermione rested the back of her hand on his forehead, feeling the hot and sweatiness of his brow. "You're ill," she moaned. "And-" she coughed as she inhaled. "How much have you been _drinking_?"

"A bit," Harry mumbled.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "This has gone _too_ far. You are getting help. I thought this was just a coping method, but it's a full blown addiction now, and it's affecting your life!"

Harry gave her a smug look. "And how am I going to get this 'help' from inside Hogwarts?"

"You'll- you'll-" Hermione struggled for words. "In the _summer_," she hissed. "And who is _stupid_ enough to help you?" Hermione wrenched off the helmet of the knight Harry had been fighting, to reveal the face of…

Neville Longbottom.

"Sorry!" Neville yelped. "He threatened Trevor!"

Hermione turned back on Harry, an expression of disbelief plastered across her face. "You threatened his _pet_?"

"A bit."

Hermione grabbed handfuls of her hair and tugged. "Argh! I can't believe I just let you- I shouldn't have been so naïve- I was stupid- _drugs_-!"

A whimpered "…Mistress?" caught her attention, and she let her eyes flicker towards the back of the hall. There; lines of House Elves held in manacles and covered with splattering's of ice cream caught her attention.

"You didn't…"

"Mistress, it's cold," Taggy whined.

"Of course you did." Hermione shook her head.

"I always knew Potter was crazy." Draco remarked.

"Shut up ferret!" Hermione snarled.

It was at that moment that Albus Dumbledore strolled in casually, followed by a horrified McGonagall. "Ah, Mr Potter! I see you've put your excellent leadership skills to good use. Unfortunately I must commandeer the Great Hall for the staff book club, and our dear Taggy here makes the most excellent of lemon teas."

Harry bowed respectfully, and fell flat on his nose. "Of course," he mumbled against the cold stone floor.

"Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to help Mr Potter back to the Gryffindor common room? I fear he might not make the trip," the elderly man smiled.

"Of course, Headmaster," Hermione smiled through gritted teeth and grasped Harry's arm in an iron grip, dragging him out of the door. "_Summer_," she hissed into his ear.

But it was not to be.


	2. An Alliance

**Hello! Yeah, so fanfic updates are a bit slow at the moment... *looks guilty*, but I'm trying to write a book. So, I guess it's justified?**

**...Kinda?**

**So sorry for the slowness and my uselessness, and here's another chapter!**

* * *

I don't think the school ever truly forgot the House Elf Rebellion. They pretended it never happened, sure, but they were never quite able to truly wipe the incident from their memory. They were cautious around Harry, nervous of him.

But Harry seemed to have calmed down, with only a few small incidents (no one _really_ counted the attacks on Malfoy), and life seemed to have returned to normal.

That is, until Delores Umbridge's lesson.

It was all going perfectly fine; she was being her usual, irritating self; Harry Potter had been noted as missing (it wasn't out of the ordinary); and Hermione was still getting used to not having to hiss '_Summer'_ at every available interval.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!"

Hermione knew it- it was too good to be true.

In came Harry James Potter, stumbling through the door with a stupid grin on his face, and a suspicious flask in one hand. "I know what you are!"

Umbridge fixed him with a stern look and a 'heh hem'. "And what is that Mr Potter? And I'd watch your tongue, as I have connections to the Minis-"

"A flurple!"

Umbridge blinked. "…A what?"

"A flurple- a toad-like creature famous for devouring the souls and hearts of children for sustenance." came the declaration, uttered by a familiar head of white-blond hair.

"Miss Lovegood?! Where did _you_ come from?"

"The ceiling."

The class glanced up, and gasped at the gaping hole in the stone.

"…How did she do that?" whispered Parvati Patil.

"The power of belief."

Parvati screamed as Luna appeared behind her.

"Be as that may, Miss Lovegood, you are not in this lesson. Please leave." You could tell how much it pained Umbridge to be anything close to cordial.

"I don't take orders from flurples." Luna had a strangely unpleasant look on her face as she gave Umbridge a disapproving shake of the head.

"You tell her, Luna!" Harry slunk a shaking arm around the smaller girl's shoulder.

Luna sent him a small smile, glowing with contentment. "Thank you Harry. The nargles give me sass."

"Too right." Harry grinned loosely and leaned onto her more. He pointed a accusing finger at Umbridge, who looks even more offended. "And you, flurple! You ought to be bloody well ashamed! Doing all that… soul sucking and stuff."

Luna patted him on the shoulder and murmured, "You tried." She turned to Umbridge and immediately grew more imperious, somehow growing several inches in height. "You, foul creature from the very depths of hell, return to whence you came from and fester in the flames until you perish in misery!"

Ron leaned across to Hermione, and whispered. "Is Luna drunk?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I think she's just tipsy. He's a terrible influence, I knew I shouldn't've waited 'til Summer to send him to that therapist…"

"What are you gonna do, kidnap him in the middle of term?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Whatever it takes." Hermione frowned in determination.

"Hermione, how'd he study for OWLs if he's at a therapist?" Ron asked pointedly.

She shrieked in outrage. "I'd send him homework!"

* * *

That day seemed to have been the start of an alliance between Harry and Luna. Hermione finally learned where Harry had been getting his alcohol from (she had cut off his supply), when she caught Luna slipping him Firewhiskey in the Great Hall. Not only that, but Luna's stories had been getting more and more outlandish, and for some reason, were now in Old English. Hermione was _not_ pleased.

"I can't believe she's enabling him." Hermione fumed as she watched Luna and Harry giggled together, leaning together over a plate of bacon at the Ravenclaw table.

Ron raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Well, okay, so I can believe it. But it doesn't mean I have to like it." Hermione glowered.

"Hello fellow Hogwartians," Harry clapped a hand onto Hermione and Ron's shoulder.

"Oh Harry mate. It's good to see you. We haven't sat with you for a few weeks, where've you been?" Ron grinned awkwardly up at his friend.

"Luna's been teaching me about the thestral-themed birthday party she's been planning. The cake is going to have a skull on it." Harry grinned happily.

"Is he even drunk? It doesn't sound it." Ron muttered to Hermione.

"I think he's gotten better at talking." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Else Luna's infected him with her strangeness."

"What did you say, Hermione?" Luna questioned innocently, appearing almost in a puff of smoke.

"Nothing," Hermione mumbled resentfully.

Suddenly, there was a rumble in the distance. Then a pounding. Then a deafening roar, as a crowd of… somethings rushed down the corridor.

"What _is_ that?" Hermione got to her feet and drew her wand, pointing it at the door. Dumbledore was already doing so, and the teachers mirrored his movements.

The door swung open, and a swarm of Hufflepuffs flooded the Great Hall, climbing onto tables and brandishing a flag with… a House Elf's heads on it?

"The House Elf Rebellion Protection Squad has arrived!" yelled a small third year (Hermione vaguely remembered her name started with an S). "And we call our leader Harry James Potter, to lead us in this fight! The House Elves will fall, and treacle tart will be restored!"

Silence fell upon the Great Hall, and the lone figure of Harry Potter got to his feet and began clapping and cheering. "Whoo! Go HERPS! Defeat the House Elves! Excellent!"

(Everyone ignored McGonagall's protests and demands for silence.)

The Hufflepuffs grinned at his celebration, and the S-girl bowed flamboyantly.

"My kindred! We will vanquish these creatures and bring back the treacle tart! Pudding for all!" He raised a hand into the air, wand clutched in his fist.

"This isn't going to end well." Hermione predicted grimly. "And SPEW will be there to stop them every step of the way. I'm sorry Harry, but we must do war."

Ron groaned.

Harry Potter crumbled to the ground, unconscious, and several Hufflepuffs ran to catch him.

Hermione sighed. "And it may be easier than I thought. Just you wait, Harry. _Summer_."


End file.
